Both Sides
by AshtonCat
Summary: What if the doctor hadn't died in Mary Reilly's arms that night in the theatre? While Mary comes to terms with what she now knows about both men, will she find a way to care for both of them while guarding their secret from the rest of the household? Based on the movie: Mary Reilly.


_I loved the movie Mary Reilly, and couldn't help but change the horrible (inevitable) ending. Enjoy_

 **Chapter one:**

The doctor was soft and warm. Not just in manners, but when she touched him, all she felt was the delicate softness of his pale skin and the warmth radiating from perhaps not only his body, but also his kind soul. Mister Hyde was very different. He always seemed to be one big ball of tensed up muscles, protruding veins and dry skin. His manners were sharp, rough in its edges and always managed to leave her gasping for breath. But they were one and the same. And she loved them both equally, just in different ways.

Caring for Doctor Jekyll was easy. He was a compliant, passive patient that trusted her through and through. He drank whatever she offered him, slept when she told him to rest, and sat his back against the headboard of his bed to engage in gentle conversation with her. After she witnessed his transformation in the laboratory, she had feared to lose them both. She had found herself hoping, praying that atleast one of them would stay, would live, would survive the poison mister Hyde had so selflessly taken to save her from ruin and disaster. Of course she would have preferred the doctor. Her kind and intelligent employer that never failed to mesmerize and amuse her with his gentle gaze, kind smile and oddball questions. But the choice was not up to her. And all she could do was wait, and watch as her beloved doctor changed from himself to his assistant, back and forth. Back and forth. There was an internal battle going on which she knew or understood nothing about. A silent war between two men that were one and the same. Or maybe it had been nothing but a discussion, a real intellectual conversation between two highly intelligent human beings trying to decide what was best for everyone. Could there be a sense of compromise in the ever so primal mister Hyde? He was capable of self-reflection, self-restraint, and she had been the one to prove that. Whenever her doctor appeared, she huddled close to his shivering form, offering comfort and support while he went through this hell that he, and he alone, helped create. But when mister Hyde appeared, she drew away, yet never too far, for he needed her there too. To see one of them in pain was torture to her, but to see them both helplessly suffer with only herself as its witness, was almost unbearable to the kind hearted girl.

The birds were announcing morning when the doctor no longer writhed in ever-lasting transformation, and he remained on the table. Shaking, trembling and exhausted. Barely conscious, but aware of her presence enough to take her hand and press it to his heart, beating violently against her palm. Relieved, beyond happiness, she had pressed her lips against his sweat covered forehead, hoping her doctor had won the fight, and she would have him back in the way she had come to be so attached to. Shy, quiet and withdrawn, but kind and amusingly strange. But his tired eyes told her something different. He didn't even need any words for her to understand that they both hadn't seen the last of mister Hyde. But his absence, as of now, was that of a blessing. She mustered up a smile for him through her own tears of fear and now also happiness, and tenderly caressed his soaked curls. He returned her smile with one of his own, yet his was void of relief.

"He'll be back." He croaked, his voice hoarse and broken from screaming. "We're both tired as of now." She nodded intently, giving his hand a small squeeze to indicate he didn't need to explain right now. It could wait. She wasn't going anywhere. "I'm so sorry, Mary." His apology was heart-breaking, and she shook her head while tears filled her eyes. "Did he hurt you?" She kept shaking her head, more vigorously by the second, as the tears found their way down her cheek. "Did I hurt you?"

"Of course not, sir." He could never hurt her. She wasn't even sure mister Hyde could truly hurt her. She would be as forgiving to him as she was to his better self. "You've only hurt yourself."

He gazed at her tiredly. "That I have." Her tears something he didn't want to witness, and certainly not something he wanted to be the cause of. She fussed with the dusty coat she had covered him with, doing whatever she could to keep him as comfortable as possible on the cold, hard operation table. He could have sworn she had been lying next to him some time ago. Her warmth pressed against his tortured body. It had kept him centred, a feeling of safety and being watched over. But Hyde must have scared her away, although he would greatly enjoy the same sort of gentle treatment despite his rough exterior.

"We should get you inside, sir. Where it's warm. I'll help you to your room." There was a slight panic in her voice, like she was suddenly in a hurry. She didn't want to help mister Hyde into the house and up the staircase. Something told her he was a much less cooperative patient than the doctor. "You need rest, sir." There was no way he could move right now. His body was on fire, and his mind more tired than ever. But for her, he would try. "Wrap your arm around my shoulder, sir." She instructed hastily, already at it. The doctor tried. He gave his best. But it only caused him to cry out in pain, and her to jump away from him, scared there would be someone else right by her side.

"I'm sorry, Mary." He panted, laying his head back down gently. "I'm spent."

"Yes, sir. But you can't stay here!" she insisted more forcefully, feeling helpless. "Not in here." Again, she moved closer to fuss with the coat, tucking him in with such exasperation it made him wonder whether she was feeling cold herself. "How long do we have, sir?" Their eyes met for a second before she dropped her gaze, obviously fearing she had overstepped some sort of boundary even though she had just witnessed everything he ever tried to hide from anyone. "Before he.. comes back." She finished her question with a small voice.

"He's as tired as I am." He explained softly. "And in his own charming ways he left me to do the dirty work and deal with the aftermath of this poison." She said nothing, but her expression changed from hunted to sympathetic. "I don't think he'll be around for some time." She seemed unsure at his words, yet she couldn't but wonder how mister Hyde was faring. Did he feel pain right now? "I'm so thirsty." The doctor moaned. "Could you get me some water, Mary? On the cabinet.." he weakly moved his head into the direction of the cabinet mister Hyde had taken the serum from. A bottle of clear water stood among the many different vials of fluids. She hoped her clumsiness and trembling fingers wouldn't cause her to drop the bottle right now, and filled a glass as careful she could. With ever present tenderness she helped the doctor take a few sips, supporting his head gently, hoping this would calm his aching stomach.

"Is he feeling what you're feeling, sir?" she wanted to know. Now that she had seen it, she wanted to know everything about it. And he was willing to provide her with all the information he had on the matter, in all of its experimental wonder as it still was. He swallowed to lubricate his throat, forcing himself to answer.

"I'm not sure what he feels when he's inside me." He said, gazing up at the ceiling. She had been caressing his hair moments ago, and he longed to feel it again instead of discussing Hyde. "My guesses are we do share one and the same body, and my ailments are as much his as they are my own." she seemed impassive, like he knew she could be. "Does it give you a sense of.. justice to know he's suffering?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. She shook her head a little, trying to force a smile.

No, sir." She said. "I just wish I could have both of you here at the same time so that I could.. help him as much as I try and help you." Her answer touched him. No matter what Hyde had done to her, said to her, she was fond of him. She was fond of the doctor entirely, not just the parts he didn't hate about himself.

"Well, he.. knows you're here for us both." The doctor whispered, reaching out weakly to ask for her hand. An offer she accepted without question, her smile growing as she took a step closer. "But he probably doesn't take to being.. helpless. At your mercy. Atleast not as easily as I do." He gazed into her eyes with a tired smile that held nothing but trust and surrender, and perhaps a flicker of fear of what she was going to do now that she knew everything.

"You need to be in bed, sir." She tried again, wanting nothing more than to get him out of this cold theatre. Off this hard table. "I cannot help you properly here." She begged him to listen and cooperate, to muster up the strength to have her help him into the house before the other members of the staff would wake and intervene. Still holding her hand, and having her close, he was reluctant to move and break this moment. Even though she was right. "I promise I'll be at your side all night if you come with me, sir." She said. "I won't move. I promise."

The prospect of having her at his side for the rest of the evening was enough for the tired doctor to get himself to move, but he didn't want her to think she was obligated to do such a thing. "Not going to rob you off your rest, Mary." He spoke kindly. "You must be exhausted after all this."

"No." she shook her head, looking puzzled. "No, sir. I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again after tonight." He frowned at her worrisome words. Traumatising the only person he ever wanted to be close to was the last thing he wanted to do. But he had caused her pain, and even though she was by no means repulsed by him, he knew he had ruined every chance of her ever seeing him like she had done so before. She had admired him so, always finding small excuses to linger around in his presence, and it had humbled him beyond belief. Yet he took to it. Like a dying house plant turning toward the last rays of the autumn sun.

"Will you ever forgive me, Mary?" he whispered. "If not me.. will you forgive him instead?" she gently pressed her cold hand against his cheek, her thumb caressing his skin affectionately. Like she had done to mister Hyde, calming him down immediately. But she refrained from uttering a word. He watched a new wave of tears roll down her pink cheeks and drip onto the brown coat that sheltered him from the worst cold. "I will accept your resignation without hesitation if you do so wish to go." She frowned in confusion, but he continued, confidant that she needed to know this very thing right this moment, before anything else, before daybreak. "I will give you outstanding references and enough pay to rent a decent room somewhere and look for something else."

"But I don't want to leave!" She blurted out defiantly, like he was sending her away. "Don't make me leave, sir." She had misunderstood his intentions.

"I'm not.. telling you to go." The doctor tried carefully. "I would be very pleased if you chose to stay, Mary." His hold on her hand tightened, like he feared she was going to run out on him right this instant. He felt like sleeping, but tried to fight it. It was hypothermia and exhaustion, no doubt. Not to mention the poison, though not potent enough to end his life, it was draining his body's reserves. "I don't think you'd be able to hide from him anyway." He added sluggishly.

"I wouldn't try to, sir." She had felt enough fear in her short life to know mister Hyde wasn't something she was truly afraid of. He shocked her, troubled her with his unpolished behaviour, a far cry from his better self. But he had never managed to outdo the fear she harboured for her father. "That'd be like hiding from you." Her logic was impeccable in all its simplicity. "I might reconsider resigning if you don't try and get up now though." Saucy little thing. Her bold terms caused him to smile. It was that kind of anarchistic behaviour that fuelled their bond in the first place. She might not have noticed him, but he knew when she was looking at him, he could feel her eyes burn in the back of his skull whenever she watched him from a quiet corner.

"Who'd water the flowers?" He asked. "They'd die without you." And so would I. "Help me up." He wound his hand around her arm, and felt her slide her other around his aching back. Together, they managed to get him atleast in a sitting position. From there, he needed another moment to catch his breath, but he could look into her eyes as an equal right now, sweat trickling down his face as the fever settled in. They were both panting from the exertion, but her encouraging smile kept him level headed enough to stay conscious. "Mister Hyde may let me deal with this poison, but atleast he will feel this sore back for days to come." He half joked to the maid, who's smile grew momentarily. She didn't wish mister Hyde any sort of discomfort, and she would show him the same gentility she bestowed on the doctor. He knew she would.

With the heavy, brown coat wrapped around his shoulders, she helped the doctor off the table. His bare feet soundlessly touching the stone cold floor as his weight, though little, felt heavier than ever. He leaned on her trustingly, confident she wouldn't let him topple to the floor. Poole had divided them that day he had crawled out of his laboratory. He had been sorry to let go of her, but found her poking up the fire in his bedroom moments later, and lingering in his presence for as long as the stoic butler would allow her. Slowly, gingerly, step by step, they made their way across the theatre and into the courtyard, where her pretty flowers and herbs stood out ridiculously against the gloomy outer walls of his house. It had started raining, and they were both getting soaked, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the steadfast maid leading him back into the warmth and safety of his home, her arms around him tightly, like she wasn't planning on ever letting him go again. His aching body was a minor detail with her presence around. He was more worried about the next thing to say to her. Choosing the right words were more of a challenge than dealing with his poisoned system right now. He wanted to impress her. Have her put all of her trust in him. He stopped following her for a moment, halting in his tracks, and smiled when she gave him a puzzled look.

"Let's keep walking, sir." She urged him, but he didn't budge. "It's raining cats and dogs."

"It's good for my fever." He gave a pitiful excuse to prolong their little moment of unbridled privacy, And she didn't seem to believe his statement either. "Stop. Don't pull me." He chided gently when she urged him to walk again. She ceased her attempts to get him to shift himself, and just looked at him in confusion. "Let me stand in the rain for a moment." He closed his eyes against the wet sensation, knowing very well the fever was causing him to become delirious and act without thinking, and by no means was the rain benefitting it. She blinked against the raindrops accumulating in her eyelashes, slightly panicked by the doctor's choice to just stand here and getting soaked together. She could feel the water make its way through the fabric of her dress, reaching her chemise within minutes and causing her to shiver against the cold sensation. Her trembling didn't go unnoticed, and he looked down at her in concern.

"I'm sorry, Mary." He said. "I forget myself. We shall continue." Gently, he pulled her along, proceeding their journey toward the house. As Poole had closed up the door to the dining room, they took the entrance to the pantry, the way she knew best. She led him through the kitchen, across the room where the staff had their meals, down the dark corridor and quietly past Poole's own quarters. She felt a pinch of giddiness when she turned to the doctor and placed her finger against her lips as she gently pulled him along, like they were up to no good. He must have felt her innocent tension, for he smiled in response. Never mind the wet floor they left behind. It would serve as a nice puzzle piece for the four servants about to start their day like nothing ever happened during this strange night. They went up the staircase as silently as they could. Passing the rooms of the others, including her own, until they finally halted in front of his bedroom door. They had made it without drawing any attention to themselves. Out of habit, and respect, she left him to open the door and invite her into his most private chamber. He closed it behind her almost immediately, eager to shut away the outside world. The room was dark, and the rain pounded against the windows of which the curtains had not been drawn. But before she could move to light the lamps, he took her wrist gently, turning her around to face him even though neither could make out the other one's features in the dark.

"Thank you, Mary." He whispered. The room was cold enough to turn their breath into fog, visible in the little light that fell through the window. All the way through the house, up here in this room, he had thought about the right words to say to her. But now that he had her full attention, he found the words lost somewhere between his stomach and his throat, unwilling to come out. "Thank you for.." For what exactly. "Understanding.." It was the best he could do. She was silent, and because he was unable to see her expression he started to worry he had said the wrong thing to her. But in the outline of the dark he could see her move closer, felt her close the space between them and carefully wrapped her arms around him to draw him into a tender embrace. She was just happy he was still there. His living, breathing presence was all she needed. She placed her cheek against his bare chest and bit her lip to hold back another wave of tears. He stood frozen, blinking softly in the dark, feeling the girl tremble as she cried over the events of the evening. It had been a lot to take in. And he would do everything in his power to help her deal with what she had witnessed. He hadn't been able to get himself to play doctor for a long time. But for her he would. He owed her that. "It's alright." He whispered consolingly. "I'm still here." He swayed on his feet, but she held him firmly into place despite her own current spell of sentiment. "I'm not going anywhere. Except, perhaps, my bed." It was enough for her to let him go and quickly wipe away her tears with her sleeve.

"My apologies, sir." She hiccupped, her throat swollen from the metaphorical lump of restrained tears. "Of course. We should get you warm quick." She turned away from him to light the fireplace and to give him the privacy to get rid of his trousers and crawl under the covers strenuously. The damp room made it difficult for her to get a good fire going, and she was getting frustrated with the amount of matches she managed to break because of her own cold and trembling hands.

"Leave it be, Mary. For now." The doctor told her tiredly, already on the verge of sleep. He hadn't cared to put on his nightshirt. It didn't matter. She had already seen more of him than any woman in a long, long time. "Come sit with me." Still surrounded by complete darkness, she sat down on the side of his bed, hoping her soaked dress wouldn't leave stains on his sheets. He searched for her cold hand until he found it. "You're frozen through." He mumbled, wrapping both of his much bigger hands around her own. They were warmer than hers, but not much. "you poor soul. All cold and wet because of me." The doctor had his eyes closed now, and was no longer in control of what he was saying. "I might not be here in the morning." She swallowed thickly. He told her something she was already aware of, and what she was already trying to come to terms with. "He will need you as much as I do, Mary." The doctor pleaded with her softly, and she found herself unable to disappoint him.

"I'll be here waiting for him, sir." She tried to speak with confidence, but the doctor had heard the tremor in her voice nonetheless.

"Don't be afraid of him." he instructed weakly. "Your kindness means a great deal to him. I know he told you that. You calm him down. He would never harm the one thing that is able to make him feel whole." She wasn't sure the doctor was still talking about his other half, or if he was now referring to himself. "But then again, he might leave it all entirely up to me to suffer the after effects of what he injected." He looked up at her, or atleast her silhouette. "I shall find a way for us all to deal with this, Mary. You don't have to carry this burden all by yourself."

"I don't mind, sir." She said quickly, not wishing to trouble the ailing doctor. "I only worry about what mister Poole will ask me in the morning." Virtuous Poole. He was a good butler, but failed miserably at being an empathetic human being. "Or what he will think if he finds mister Hyde in your bed, sir." The man would assume the least appealing thing about the unmarried doctor.

"Never mind him, Mary." Doctor Jekyll whispered solemnly, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. "Only one opinion matters in this house, and that is mine." Thunder rumbled in the distance. "And I hold you in the highest regards possible. So don't worry about Poole. I would rather see you prepare yourself to handle both myself and mister Hyde until we've all come to some agreement. I think that should be your top priority right now." She nodded in the dark, waiting for the doctor's voice to continue his explanation, but it never came. After a few silent minutes she realized he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion and had drifted off to sleep. Feeling encouraged by the darkness that surrounded them both, she reached out until she had found the soft, greying curls of the doctor's still damp hair. On those occasions he had styled it, he had tried his best to tame his curls, but they were about as untameable as the dark side he harboured within himself, and they returned without fail if it happened to rain outside. She smiled to herself remembering mister Poole's complaints about his master's penchant for getting rid of his curls whenever he wished to go out. And of course his butler was the one to assist him in those rare efforts. A task that often proved to be almost impossible. She also remembered mister Hyde telling her the doctor was too old for her. And she had failed to say she didn't mind his greying hair. But should mister Hyde ever commence to comment on the doctor's age again, she was sure to bring herself to argue with him.

She pulled the covers up to the doctor's chin, silently hoping he would be there in the morning. She was reluctant to leave his side, even though she didn't wish to witness another transformation ever again. "Goodnight, sir." In his sleep, he let out a small "hm" to acknowledge her words, but other than that he gave no reply, or comment, to her departure. She closed the door behind her quietly, and tiptoed up the narrow staircase to join Annie in bed for another precious hour of sleep.

R&R


End file.
